Baley now stood, one hand on the back of the chair on which he had been sitting.

Gremionis said, “I am sorry, Mr. Baley, for losing control. It is something I have not done in my adult life. You accused me of being j-jealous. It is a word no respectable Auroran, use of another, but I should have remembered you are an Earthman. It is a word we encounter only in historical romances and even then the word is usually spelled with a followed by a dash. Of course, that is not so on your world.”

“I understand that.”

“I am sorry, too, Mr. Gremionis,” said Baley gravely, “that my forgetfulness of Auroran custom led me astray in this instance. I assure you that such a lapse will not happen again.” He seated himself and said, “I don’t know that there is much more to discuss—”

Gremionis did not seem to be listening. “When I was a child,” he said, “I would sometimes push against another, and be pushed, and it would be awhile before the robots would take the trouble to separate us, of course—”

Daneel said, “If I may explain, Partner Elijah. It has been well-established that total suppression of aggression in the very young has undesirable consequences. A certain amount of youthful play involving physical competition is permitted—even encouraged—provided no real hurt is involved. Robots in charge of the young are carefully programmed to be able to distinguish the chance’s and level of harm that may take place. I, for instance, am not properly programmed in this respect and would not qualify as a guardian of the young except under emergency conditions for brief periods.—Nor would Giskard.”

Baley said, “Such aggressive behavior is stopped during adolescence, I suppose.”

“Gradually,” said Daneel, “as the level of harm that maybe inflicted increases and as the desirability of self-control becomes more pronounced.”

Gremionis said, “By the time I was ready for higher schooling, I, like all Aurorans, knew quite well that all competition rested on the comparison of mental capacity and talent—”

“No physical competition?” said Baley.

“Certainly, but only in fashions that do not involve deliberate physical contact with intent to injure.”

“But since you’ve been an adolescent—”

“I’ve attacked no one. Of course I haven’t. I’ve had the urge to do so on a number of occasions, to be sure. I suppose I wouldn’t be entirely normal if I hadn’t, but until this moment, I’ve been able to control it. But then, no one ever called me that before.”

Baley said, “It would do no good to attack, in any case, if you are going to be stopped by robots, would it? I presume there is always a robot within reach on both sides of both the attacker and the attacked.”

“Certainly.—All the more reason for me to be ashamed of having lost my self-control. I trust that this won’t have to go into your report.”

“I assure you I will tell no one of this. It has nothing to do with the case.”

“Thank you. Did you say that the interview is over?”

“I think, it is.”

“In that case, will you do as I have asked you to do?”

“What is that?”

“To tell Gladia I had nothing to do with Jander’s immobilization.”

Baley hesitated. “I will tell her that that is my opinion.”

Gremionis said, “Please make it stronger than that. I want her to be absolutely certain that I had nothing to do with it; all the more so if she was fond of the robot from a sexual standpoint. I couldn’t bear to have her think I was j-j—Being a Solarian, she might think that.”

“Yes, she might,” said Baley thoughtfully.

“But look,” said Gremionis, speaking quickly and earnestly. “I don’t know anything about robots and no one—Dr. Vasilia or anyone else—has told me anything about them—how they work, I mean. There is just no way in which I could have destroyed Jander.”

Baley seemed, for a moment, to be deep in thought. Then he said, with clear reluctance, “I can’t help but believe you. To be sure, I don’t know everything. And it is possible—I say this without meaning offense—that either you or Dr. Vasilia both—are lying. I know surprisingly little about the intimate nature of Auroran society and I can perhaps be easily fooled. And yet, I can’t help but believe you. Nevertheless, I can’t do more than tell Gladia that, in my opinion, you are completely innocent. I must say ‘in my opinion,’ however. I am sure she will find that strong enough.”

Gremionis said gloomily, “Then I will have to be satisfied with that—if it will help, though, I assure you, on the word of an Auroran citizen, that I am innocent.”

Baley smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t dream of doubting your word, but my training forces me to rely on objective evidence alone.”

He stood up, stared solemnly at Gremionis for a moment, then said, “What I am about to say should not be taken amiss, Mr. Gremionis. I take it that you are interested in having me give Gladia this reassurance because you want to retain her friendship.”

“I want that very much, Mr. Baley.”

“And you intend, on some suitable occasion, to offer yourself again?”

Gremionis flushed, swallowed visibly, then said, “Yes, I do.”

“May I then give you a word of advice, sir? Don’t do it.”

“You may keep your advice, if that’s what you’re going to tell me. I don’t intend ever to give up.”

“I mean do not go through the usual formal procedure. You might consider simply”—Baley looked away, feeling unaccountably embarrassed—“putting your arms around her and kissing her.”

“No,” said Gremionis earnestly. “Please. An Auroran woman would not endure that. Nor an Auroran man.”

“Mr. Gremionis, won’t you remember that Gladia is not Auroran? She is Solarian and has other customs, other traditions. I would try it if I were you.”

Baley’s level gaze masked a sudden internal fury. What was Gremionis to him that he should give such advice? Why tell another to do that—which he himself longed to do?

Baley got back to business, with a somewhat deeper baritone to his voice than was usual. He said, “Mr. Gremionis, you mentioned the name of the head of the Robots Institute earlier. Could you give me that name again?”

“Kelden Amadiro.”

“And would there be some way of reaching him from here?”

Gremionis said, “Well, yes and no. You can reach his receptionist or his assistant. I doubt that you’ll reach him. He’s a rather standoffish person, I’m told. I don’t know him personally, of course. I’ve seen him now and then, but I’ve never talked to him.”

“I take it, then, he doesn’t use you as a clothes designer or for personal grooming?”

“I don’t know that he uses anyone and, from the few occasions when I’ve seen him, I can tell you he looks it, though I’d rather you didn’t repeat that remark.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but I’ll keep the confidence,” said Baley gravely. “I would like to try to reach him, despite his standoffish reputation. If you have a trimensic outlet, would you mind my making use of it for that purpose?”

“Brundij can make the call for you.”

“No, I think my partner, Daneel, should—that is, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” said Gremionis. “The outlet is in there, so just follow me, Daneel. The pattern you must use is 75-30-up-20.”

Daneel bowed his head. “Thank you, sir.”

The room with the trimensic outlet was quite empty, except for a thin pillar toward one side of the room. It ended waist high in a flat surface on which there was a rather complicated console. The pillar stood in the center of a circle marked off on the light green floor in a neutral gray. Near it was an identical circle in size and color, but on the second one there stood no pillar.

Daneel stepped to the pillar and, as he did so, the circle on which it stood glowed with a faint white radiance. His hand moved over the console, his fingers flicking too quickly for Baley to make out clearly what it was they did. It only took a second and then the other circle glowed in precisely the same way. A robot appeared on it, three-dimensional in appearance but with a very faint flicker that gave away the fact that it was a holographic image. Next to him was a console like that next to which Daneel stood, but the robot’s console also flickered and was also an image.